So Much Can Be Said In A Song
by Dreamchylde
Summary: The original premise was to put your entire music collection on shuffle, hit play, and write. I changed it somewhat. Short music drabbles involving JazzxRachel & whoever else I feel like writing about. 4th: You can hide a lot of pain behind a smile
1. Ecstasy

**A/N:** _I saw a music drabble story by The Lunatic Who Cares with the premise of putting your music playlist on shuffle, hit play and write for as long as each song plays. It was one of those challenge thingies. I thought it was a neat idea so I made a note to look into it when I had some free time. Unfortunately, (or maybe not) the plot bunny bug bit me while I was working on my other stories 'Countdown of the Ancients' and 'Young Turks', and as certain songs came up on Winamp ideas would pop into my twisted head. I jotted song titles and who it would pertain to on my never ending pile of PostIt Notes and set it aside for later. This little drabble hit me while I was working on a fluffy scene in 'Countdown' with Jazz and Rachel, my OC._

**Premise:** I've changed the drabble idea for my own amusement: actual song lyrics that pertain to Jazz and Rachel and other TF characters.

**Disclaimer: **No matter how much I wish, I will never own them. Rachel Milne is mine.

**Synopsis:** Scenes and musings by Rachel as she falls in love with our favorite Special Op's agent. Fluff. No slash. Italics are internal dialogue. Actual lyrics are in ()

Constructive criticism is welcomed. Reviews are given much love. Stealing is not.

Song is 'Ecstasy' by ATB

--

(Have you ever noticed, that I'm not acting as I used to do before?)

I sat there quietly next to him, staring into my soda and wondering how to break the silence. _You're acting like a giddy schoolgirl, Rachel. This is Jazz. You've spent countless hours talking and hanging out with him._ "So, uhm…" I took a nervous sip of my soda to calm the butterflies threatening to burst through my chest. "Anything interesting happen today?"

Jazz grinned at me with his disarmingly bright smile, "Nope. Best part of my day was when y' walked through the door."

I coughed on my soda, blushing and turning away, "Must have been a really boring day."

"It was a long day, but I spent most of it thinkin' about y', Rach."

--

(Have you ever wondered, why I always keep on coming back for more?)

"I was wonderin' if y' felt like watchin' the stars wit' me tonight?" There was that impish grin of his.

I looked at the floor as we headed down the hallway that led to the lounge. The blush that bloomed on my cheeks felt like a super nova. "Like a date?"

"Exactly like a date."

My heart felt like it was beats away from bursting out of my chest. I nervously twirled a lock of my hair around my finger. "I'd love to."

--

(What have you done to me?)

Jazz's warm hand was at my back, holding me close to him. His touch was so gentle and feather light. I felt safe, so secure, so… complete in his hands and I realized at that very moment that I never wanted to leave his side. I looked up into his smiling face; my eyes met his azure visor and I wondered if he knew how I felt when he was near.

--

(I will never be the same, I'll tell you for sure.)

"Hey. Smile for me please, Rach? Y' know my day is never complete wit' out seein' y' smile."

_His day wasn't complete without my smile?_ I blushed furiously and turned away. My heart was skipping beats. My mind raced at the speed of light as every irrational thought in existence ricocheted in my head. _Did he mean it like that or was he just trying to make me feel better? Does he feel like I do when he's near me? He can't, can he? What do I do? What do I say? What if he didn't mean it like that?_

Jazz put his fingers under my chin and slowly drew my face up to look at him. His disarming smile could make a polar ice cap melt, and even under the harsh lighting of the lab his visor sparkled. I felt my knees suddenly weaken.

"Please? One smile jus' for me?"

My breath caught in my throat as I looked up into his face. Jazz was for a lack of another word… perfect. Sweet, caring, funny, beautiful, and with that smile of his… I was so completely mesmerized, I could not help but smile for him.

"That's my girl. My day is perfect now." He didn't let go of my chin and his smile took on an impish twitch, "I can go t' the Matrix happy, since my Rachel smiled for me."

_His… Rachel? His Rachel? Me? I am his Rachel? Me?_

I reached out to him to steady myself. My legs had liquefied and I knew there was no way I could trust them to hold my weight.

"Y' okay, Rachel?"

It took me a few moments before I realized that he had asked me a question. I blinked to shake that wonderfully warm hazy feeling from my head. "I- I'm fine, Jazz."

--

(Not that I'm complaining. A more beautiful vision - I have never seen.)

With Jazz standing so close to me, I could not help but 'look' at his spark that was carefully stowed inside his chest. It oscillated with a vibrant whitish-blue radiance and I thought that it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen before.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

I had to force my eyes to shut so I could turn away, "I can see your spark. It's unbelievably beautiful." Jazz chuckled at me as I fought to keep from staring again. I wanted for time to stop just so I could gaze at the pulsating glow of his spark.

--

(If you don't mind me saying, a lifelong ambition to fulfill my dream.)

I leaned against Jazz's door and stared out into the driving rain, watching it bead across the glass. Absently, I ran my fingers along his door panel, lightly caressing the dark leather, and remembering the first time I saw him. He had caught my eye as I entered the dealership. The salesman walked me past him four times, patting his roof and spoiler each time just to draw my attention to the dirty Porsche.

_The salesman gave me a wink and another smile, "Ya've had one o' those days it seems. Maybe a little splurgin' will make it better." He patted the dusty car, "Granted he's an older 935, but he runs like a dream."_

_I ran my hand over the hood of the car; it had been sitting outside awhile by the amount of dust on it. "How much?" I inquired._

_"He hasn't been on the lot for long, __and seein' as dejected as ya look I'll knock 25 percent off the price and let ya have him for 3500_._" He patted the roof again,__ "Ya know the old saying, 'The driver doesn't pick the car. The car picks the driver.' I think he's taken a real shine t' ya, ma'am."_

This week last year was when my life changed forever. When Jazz appeared in my life and drew me out of my comfortable shell, showing me a world that I would never have dreamed, of things that I never would have done on my own… of the perfect love I would have missed completely.

--

(You really are my ecstasy. My real life fantasy.)

Time stood still. The universe stopped its eternal dance. The world was a million miles away. The war did not exist anymore. The med bay where we had stood disappeared into the ether. Life as we knew it consisted of just us. My heart beat only for him - his spark pulsed only for me.

With his fingers, he gently tilted my head up to meet his gaze and I stared into his azure visor. The perfect smile I received from him radiated his love and assurance that we would never be separated from each other; no matter the distance, no matter the circumstances, there was a bond between us that nothing could ever come between. Not even death.

I caressed his face tenderly, the warm soft metal of his faceplate pulling back into a wider smile. My smile grew as well, my eyes drinking in the bright azure glow from his visor and every angle of his face, carefully etching every detail in my mind. Words were unnecessary, we were communicating only through touch and expression. I could feel the strength behind his other hand that held me close to his hood, firm enough to reassure me that he would never let me go, yet gentle enough to not hurt me. I traced along his chin with the back of my hand, enjoying the reaction I received from him in the form of his spreading smile. Our souls touched for the briefest of moments. He was complete, I was complete, and nothing else mattered anymore.

--

(I'll never be the same, I'll tell you for sure. You really are my ecstasy. My real life fantasy.)

We are together and in love for a reason. Our love is universal and pure. True love. When the yarns of Fate were spun, the Weaver made sure to wrap the threads that were Jazz and Rachel tightly around each other. Our names were written in stardust and we appeared in the dreams of angels. The sands of time and space parted and cleared the path so our souls could touch. No matter what the odds…_ We were meant to be together_.

We would _always_ be together.

I need him. He needs me. I love him and he loves me.

Jazz is my ecstasy.

--

Anyone feel like a challenge?


	2. Fade To Black

**A/N:** The premise is to put your music playlist on shuffle, hit play and write for as long as each song plays. One of those challenge thingies that looked interesting, so I filed the idea away for later. Well, drabbles came to mind while writing my other stories and no amount of PostIt Notes could keep ideas at bay. I've changed the parameters of the challenge just to amuse myself and because I can. Drabbles are based on song lyrics that can be used in a story: meaning the lyrics aren't just flowery filler, they tell the story.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were fishes... I'd be dodging the feet of sports cars and jets. Rachel Milne is mine.

**Synopsis:** THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANY OF MY OTHER STORIES. What would happen if Rachel and Jazz were in the movieverse. You know exactly what I mean. Yes, DC is feeling angsty and frustrated. I've been ripping apart chapters and ideas and I can't get things right. Very-highly-want-to-scream-and-throw-things-frustrated. I tried to rewatch the live-action movie for a pick-me-up and received nothing but taunts of 'Don't cry! Are you crying? Are you tearing up? It's just a story! Don't cry now! I bet you couldn't write about that!' Then came the double-dog-dare and we have DC relieving some pent up angst by abusing Rachel and ripping our hearts to shreds.

I had another source of influence behind this. Back in November someone wrote an alternate ending for 'Thrown to the Front Lines', I tried to find the email with it, but I haven't had any success. So for whomever gave me the idea way back when, this is for you.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Reviews given much love. Stealing is not. Lyrics are in italics.

Song is 'Fade To Black' by Metallica

--

_Life, it seems, will fade away. Drifting further every day._

This can't be happening…

"Ratchet?" My own voice sounds strange, strained and foreign and so very far away. "Ratchet?"

Sad cerulean optics gaze at me. The predominately grouchy medic's voice sounds just as foreign - quiet and full of pain. "I'm sorry, Rachel. He was gone before I got to him."

I pressed my palms to the unbroken armor on his cold chest. There was no spark beat. No familiar hum from precision-tuned internal systems. No drawn breath from intakes. No soft thrum from a working fuel pump. The energon that had not drained from his systems was pooling on the table from where he was torn… I cannot look at the wound. Defiance screams at me, but I know that there was nothing Ratchet could have done.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel."

_Getting lost within myself. Nothing matters, no one else_.

There are other optics on me, but I do not acknowledge them. The only optics I want to see are hidden behind the once sparkling azure visor. But it has lost its vibrant glow. I slide my hands up his chest to his face and run my fingers over his cool metal skin. I traced his lips with my fingers. There was no brilliant smile on them now. I would never see that disarming grin again. Never hear his musical laugh. Never hear him say those three precious words ever again…

Tears mix with drying energon. My tears. His energon.

_I have lost the will to live. Simply nothing more to give._

Oil. Coolant. Energon. I am covered in his lifeblood as I curl up in the space between his jaw and shoulder, wrapping my arms around my knees.

Life stopped. There was nothing left in life for me. This war that claimed his life held nothing else for me. Revenge? Retribution? They were not mine to give. I would not reap their bounty. No amount of force or firepower; no laws or semblance of justice; no penalty or punishment. No victory. No vengeance. Nothing would bring back what was taken from me.

_There is nothing more for me. I need the end to set me free._

There are other noises in the room. Other wounded mechs who could use my help. I knew Ratchet needed me. I could see him running back and forth in the remaining blur of life that passed us, but I could not help him. There was nothing I could do anymore.

_Things aren't what they used to be. I'm missing one inside of me._

Many were injured; it had been a brutal fight in a place called Mission City. There was something important in this battle. Some Cybertronian artifact the Autobots had to keep away from Megatron at all costs…

But it was not worth this. This cost was too great. The thing could have destroyed the entire universe in an instant and it still would not be worth this. Not his death. Nothing was worth the extinguishing of his spark. The spark that beat for me. The spark that I could no longer feel.

_Deathly lost, this can't be real. I cannot stand this hell I feel._

My eyes felt tired and I rested my head on his cheek. Time was still flying past us; the table where he lay and I sat guarding him was forgotten in the chaos of the med bay. Detached and distorted reality. It was unreal. Too out of place. It was like a nightmare had gone horribly wrong and I could not force myself to wake up from it. The smell of the energon was too acrid. The congealing oil too sticky. The med bay lights were too bright. The sounds too canned. The thinly veiled pain in Ratchet's barking tone was _too real_.

_Emptiness is filling me, to the point of agony. _

I was cold, and not just on the outside. My arms and legs felt physically cold. I numbly looked down at my chest expecting to see the wide gaping hole that I knew was there and shredding my heart. I could feel the icy claws that had pierced my chest, digging and ripping my soul into bloody ribbons that would pour out leaving me empty. I would be empty. A lifeless husk of a woman walking through the shadows of what once was.

_Growing darkness taking dawn. I was me, but now he's gone._

Once upon a time I lived alone and isolated – unaware that I was incomplete and that the other half to my whole was about to fall out of the skies and into my life. But once that void was filled with his light... His presence… His love. There would be no going back. We were no longer two individuals anymore - we were one. One that could not, would not be divided again. I was nothing without him. And I ceased to exist the moment his spark was torn from his chest by Megatron's vicious claws.

_Yesterday seems as though it never existed._

How long ago was it since I told him that I loved him? How many hours had passed since I kissed him goodbye? It felt like eons had come and gone and suddenly the memories that were only a few hours old slipped from the realm of reality to a vague and unfamiliar dream. Memories, feelings, and moments we shared, promises of things left undone slowly evaporated into dried tears.

I glanced up at his grayed visor, cracked and lifeless; another part of him that was broken in the battle. Pieces of it had shattered and pierced his face, puncturing his smooth metal skin with its ragged shards. There is a faint trace of the azure light shimmering in the clotting energon, a ghost of the bright light he was. I pulled a piece free catching my hand on one of the sharp edges; with cold fascination, I watch my warm crimson blood snaking through the cooled violet-pink energon, mixing our different lifebloods, intertwining us again. Life. Death. Together. Alone. I don't hesitate or even question the sanity behind my actions as I ran the shard from his visor over my wrists.

_Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye._

I curl up next to him on the table and shut my eyes. The background noises of the med bay start to fade away and I feel warm. Familiar warmth. And then a pulse. A familiar blue-white pulse that swirls around me, calling to me, pulling at me. I start to laugh and give chase. He is laughing, too. I can hear his melodic voice and I can see that beautiful disarming smile of his.

I am going to catch him.

--

The med bay had quieted some in the aftermath of the battle. The badly injured mechs were in stasis while the others were sent back to their quarters. Ratchet rubbed at his weary optics and walked over to the table that he had avoided most of the night. She was curled up next to his body and his spark ached for her. This was not going to be easy for anyone, but he needed to prepare Jazz's body for interment. "Rachel? I need you to get up so I can move his body."

There was no movement from her and as Ratchet neared the table he realized that the congealed energon was a strange color. He did not need to scan her small body to answer that question, but that did not keep his voice from catching in his throat, "Rachel?"

The battle-hardened medic looked away from the table where two of his closest friends lay and shuttered his optics. He was tired of this war. Tired of it taking away people he cared about. Tired of all the pain it created. Tired of feeling his very spark fade away with each passing vorn.

The faint sound of her laughter startled him.

Ratchet glanced up and saw two swirling orbs of light dancing in front of him: one bluish-white, the other purplish-red. He watched in fascination as they frolicked and twirled around the med bay, taking turns chasing each other in a childlike game of tag. He heard the laughter again as the sparkling orbs floated up to him and bobbed in the air directly in front of his optics. The grouchy medic snorted and gave them a faint smile, "Keep each other out of trouble and don't wait up for me."

They bobbed in unison and then swirled together into one bright light that sparkled brightly before winking out completely.

Ratchet watched the spot where they had last been and realized his spark felt lighter and not as faded. Knowing that the Matrix held true the promise of reuniting with your loved ones somewhat eased his pain. Someday he and the others would join Jazz and Rachel; and hopefully, he would not need to bring his throwing wrench.

--

Don't kill me for this.

Feel like a challenge?


	3. What I've Done

**A/N:** _I know, I know. You're thinking, "Are you seriously expecting us to read a story put to Linkin Park lyrics? And it's about the Seekers?! Are you out of your crazy little mind, DC? Don't you know how old and boring this idea is?" I know, BUT this time its about the angsty Seeker. And I mean the true angsty Seeker, not the snarky one. The snarky one gets enough stories written about him, it's time to shed more light on the silent and truly conflicted one._

**Premise:** The idea is to put your music playlist on shuffle, hit play and write for as long as each song plays. I've changed the parameters of the challenge just to amuse myself and because I can. Drabbles are based on song lyrics that can be used in a story: meaning the lyrics aren't just flowery filler, they tell the story.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were fishes... I'd be dodging the feet of sports cars and jets.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Reviews given much love. Stealing is not. Lyrics are in italics. Dedicated to KayDeeBlu. Dubbed 'A Seeker's Requiem' by Bluebird Soaring. Thanks guys. :D

Song is 'What I've Done' by Link Park

--

_In this farewell, there's no blood, there's no alibi…_

:Hey, TC? Where are you? We're heading back to base-:

The comlink transmission ended abruptly, cutting off direct contact to the others. Midnight blue and black armor battered, dull, and splashed in dried energon that was not his own, the lone Seeker sat perched on the highest balcony of the Towers like a dangerous bird of prey at his roost. His blood red optics were listless, weary and tired, and full of conflict and pain.

He didn't feel like going back to base where they would be celebrating over the latest victory; he would only sit there alone in the commissary while the others drank and bragged about how many they killed...

His internal systems shuddered violently and he turned his head to vomit the remaining contents of his fuel tank down the side of the Tower. Again.

_'Cause I've drawn regret from the truth of a thousand lies…_

Hidden in the outskirts of Kalis, it was supposed to be the Autobot base of operations. A military target. A loss that would destroy a large portion of their armory and demoralize the Autobot forces; and from the air it looked just like what the sketchy intel had said it was - a small compound with concealed guards and anti-aircraft weapons.

"The Neutrals are shielding the Autobots! Use any means necessary to force the cowards out, even if you have to slaughter the entire city!" Those were the orders given to the sortie of Decepticons that he and his trinemates had been assigned to: Kill them all and let Primus sort out the innocent from the guilty.

_So let mercy come and wash away what I've done._

He put his head in his stained hands and shuttered his optics; it would be orns before the sounds of their screams and the images of the twisted bodies dimmed from his memory.

At least, he hoped this time they would.

The innocent lifeblood that stained his hands would wash away easily, but he would still feel it. It was always there; a vivid reminder of what he was now.

_I'll face myself to cross out what I've become…_

Shouting from the streets a hundred levels below him ended him a barrage of photon rifle fire. Another 'rebel' silenced for the good of the Decepticon cause. He couldn't go on like this anymore. All he ever wanted from life was to fly freely - not be chained to this violent and pointless war. Yet here he was, one of Megatron's shocktroopers; a killing machine, a sparkless drone with a weapon and orders to follow explicitly.

Another scream wafted up to the midnight blue Seeker - pitiful shrieks for mercy drowned out by gunfire. Just like the screaming from earlier...

_Erase myself and let go of what I've done_.

The battle was brutal as the Autobots literally threw themselves into the Decepticon's line of fire - a foolish to fight for an armory. Megatron jeered at the dying mechs as he brought down the outer walls of the compound. "Pathetic! Do you think your noble sacrifices over weapons for the Autobots will be remembered?!"

Except it wasn't an Autobot weapon depot, but that didn't matter to the others as they rushed into the smoking rubble shooting at anything that moved. He had rushed in as well expecting a squadron of rebels to leap out of the fog of war...

…He didn't expect to hear the crying of sparklings.

The Autobots were protecting a nursery.

He gasped in horror and dropped his weapon at the sight before him: small bodies littered the area, broken and crushed from the destruction of the compound. Their lifeblood, the spilled blood of the innocent, ran in torrents over the splintered ground. There were more dead than dying. The carnage held no mercy for the young, snuffing out life as if it were a swirl of dust eddying in a forgotten corner.

The rubble in front of him shook and a small blue form struggled to free itself from the debris. He had knelt and lifted the twisted metal from on top of it. The sparkling recoiled at the sight of him, trembling and whimpering; it couldn't have been more than a meta-cycle old. He had smiled and held out his hands. "I won't hurt you, little one," He had cajoled the sparkling into coming out of the hole.

The midnight blue Seeker never heard the shot that seared past him.

The mech, a mere piece of cannon-fodder, whooped loudly and exclaimed to the Seeker the number of kills he had collected that day: 42.

He didn't know when he picked up his weapon or how many shots it took before the mech was nothing more than a molten stain on the ground - all he knew was that he was covered in the energon of a dead sparkling.

_Put to rest what you thought of me…_

He coughed up the final dregs of fluid from his fuel tank and raggedly wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. It took a handful of kliks before he felt steady enough to stand up and look into the twinkling black night that covered the planet. He could feel the air currents pulling at his wings, beckoning him to their calming embrace. The skies were his domain, the only place where he was sure he belonged, and for the moment, they were free of the taint of war. The air currents never judged him or looked down upon him for the evil he helped cause. Yet today he was certain that even his beloved skies would reject him.

He stepped off the edge of the balcony and transformed, shooting off into the upper reaches of the thin atmosphere. He threw himself into a tight barrel roll and roared in unadulterated frustration to the chilled air. The guilt that pricked and needled at his spark refused to find relief as he hurdled through the challenging aerial maneuvers, so he pushed his body harder and faster. Heated energon thrummed through his systems and his fuel pump was in overdrive as the rolls became tighter, and he launched into an upward coil trying to throw his equilibrium off – anything to sanctify his spark from the weight it carried.

_While I clean this slate with the hands of uncertainty._

He transformed and spun to a stop, drawing in air roughly through his intakes. He threw his head back and wailed in agony to the heavens, an anguished howl filled with nothing but guilt, but the sound of his own voice pressed down on his audios as if he was in a glass cage – canned and shallow. A sonic boom made the sky tremble, then another boom, and another until the very atoms that surrounded him vibrated and his limbs trembled numbly. Still he found no relief from his precious sky. He jetted up into the stratosphere without transforming; pushing his engines to their limits, he tried to reach the stars that twinkled just out of his grasp. He shot through the final layers of Cybertron's atmosphere as if they were mere sheets of rain.

As air resistance ceased to pull on his body and the icy cold of space nipped and pulled at the quivering sensors in his wings, he realized that his energy levels were low. He could head back to Decepticon headquarters before his levels threatened to shut him down… But he did not want to hear the laughter and bragging about killing sparklings.

_So let mercy come and wash away what I've done_.

He peered down at Cybertron from where he floated weightlessly and he could barely make out the shining Towers where he had sat brooding. From space no one would be able to tell that the planet was in a bitter civil war - war where he defiled his hands with the blood of the innocent. He could vow that he wasn't going to be an instrument of death for Megatron anymore, that he would defect from the Decepticon ranks, that he would leave Cybertron in exile and put everything about this war behind him, but there would be no forgiveness for him. His spark was far too soiled to receive any absolution, and there was nothing he could do to atone for the pain and suffering he had caused.

And the optics of that blue sparkling whose fragile trust he gained would haunt him wherever he tried to hide.

_I'll start again…_

There were only two ways the midnight blue Seeker could think of to find exculpation from his guilt, and begging Primus wasn't on the list. One would be eating the business end of his rifle; the other would be letting his precious sky decide his fate. He somersaulted once in the near-zero gravity - that was how long it took for him to decide. If he was to absolve himself of his crimes as a Decepticon, he wanted to do it with the final caress of the wind on his wings.

_And whatever pain may come…_

He somersaulted again and stretched his wings out to their fullest span, flexing each aileron by itself. He increased the level of sensitivity on the sensors in his wings and disabled his pain receptors, ironically noting that it did not have an effect on his spark. After running through a list of processes that might impede what he was about to do, he finally shut off his equilibrium sensors and disabled his internal gyroscope. When he felt he was ready, he spread his arms out and 'dove' into Cybertron's atmosphere.

Maybe the Matrix had open skies to soar in.

_Today this ends._

If his spark hadn't been so heavy, he might have enjoyed the sensation of the air rippling over his wings like icy fire as he plummeted towards the broken husk of a long forgotten suburb of Iacon. He shuttered his optics and focused solely on the wind as his body sliced through the air like an energon knife through warm steel. As his body hurtled to its perceived demise, the midnight blue Seeker did not hear the shouting as the wind whistled past his audio receptors... But he did feel the impact and recoil as he collided with something other than the ground.

"Primus! You need to cut back on the energon goodies, TC."

He unshuttered his optics and gaped at the black and purple form that had caught him. "'Warp?"

"Well I'm definitely not 'Screamer." He grunted and helped the startled Seeker right himself.

"You're not good enough to be me, 'Warp." Blue hands took a hold of his best friend's arm. "Come on. I know a bar nearby we can go to and not be bothered. High-grade is on me."

The midnight blue Seeker held his ground, shaking his head, "I... I can't do this anymore. I just... I can't go on like this."

The black and purple Seeker put a hand on his shoulder. "We know, TC."

"Sometimes," The red Seeker peered up into the limitless sky above. "Sometimes forgiveness can be found in those who know you the best."

He cocked his head to one side, curious to Starscream's sudden deep reflection, "And the other times?"

Skywarp softly smiled at his best friend, "That's when you help us forgive ourselves."

_I'm forgiving what I've done._

--

Up for a challenge?


	4. Veteran of the Psychic Wars

**A/N:** _I haven't fallen off the face of Cybetron. Still here, still kicking, still writing. Yes, I made Ratchet a complete aft. I don't know where Bluestreak comes from, but I like the name Ky-Alexia (from the movie continuity). _

**Premise:** The idea is to put your music playlist on shuffle, hit play and write for as long as each song plays. I've changed the parameters of the challenge just to amuse myself and because I can. Drabbles are based on song lyrics that can be used in a story: meaning the lyrics aren't just flowery filler, they tell the story.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were fishes... I'd be dodging the feet of sports cars and jets.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Reviews given much love. Stealing is not. Lyrics are in italics.

Dedicated to KayDeeBlu. Now we are even.

--

Song is 'Veteran of the Psychic Wars' by Blue Oyster Cult

--

_You see me now a veteran of a thousand psychic wars_

Dead.

Everyone was dead.

He didn't need to hear the Decepticon patrols to know that the entire city was gone. His city. He didn't have to see the bodies to know everyone was gone. His friends and family, they were all gone. Everything he ever loved was gone.

The air reeked of ozone and scorched energon. A sooty veil hid the street from his view and thick, evil smoke blotted out Cybertron's skies. All that was left of the neighborhood were the broken remnants of twisted and melted metal. A building crumbled under the burning weight of fires unchecked, the sound echoing hollowly throughout the area. A slight breeze in the fog of war released a flurry of ebony and orange ashes into the air, scattering some of them across his body.

He cradled her mangled blue chassis in his arms, her cooling energon coagulating as it ran down his gray body and into his lap. He drew his fingers down the side of her cheek, smearing black ashes and sticky energon over her beautiful pale face. She was gone. He knew she was gone, but maybe Primus would return her to him if he held her a little tighter...

Her brilliant smile and vibrant laughter flashed across his mind. She had been laughing at his silly antics only a handful of joors ago - right before the Decepticon trines streaked across the sky and rained hellfire down on their city. He laced his grimy fingers with her energon stained ones, they were becoming stiff with the cold that was overtaking her body. He closed his shaking hand around hers - he never realized how small they were inside of his - and brought her hand to his lips kissing it gently.

He could hear the voices of Decepticon troops as they began looting the neighborhood coming towards him. With the greatest care he laid her broken body reverently on the ground and silently promised he would be back for her as he turned to face the sounds of the oncoming mechs. Someone had to put a stop to this madness. Someone had to fight back for all of those who lost everything they loved.

He ran toward the voices unsure what he would do when he found the Decepticons. He had to stop them. Some way, some how, he had to stop them. For her sake, he had to stop them.

Leaping over a pile of debris, his foot caught on something and he stumbled forward. He looked behind him and his fuel tanks lurched. He had tripped over the body of a city guard, his lifeless optics staring up at the unforgiving soot-filled skies. The guard still clutched his rifle as if he was still waiting for the enemy to appear.

Realizing that his greatest chance of stopping the Decepticons was to take up arms, he gently pried the rifle out of the guards fingers, _"Sorry, but I need to borrow this."_

The rifle fit in his hand like it was meant to be there, and he shuddered at the sensation. He wasn't a fighter and he had never picked up a weapon before, but now it was a fight for survival. He had to survive for her.

Voices echoed through the destroyed street. Laughing voices. Cruel, mocking laughter.

He cocked the rifle and snuck around piles of rubble toward the voices – a group of fliers who were tossing a dead mech's head back and forth between themselves in a macabre game of keep-away. He carefully aimed for the Decepticon who was laughing the hardest and pulled the trigger…

_I've been living on the edge so long where the winds of limbo roar._

Bluestreak screamed in anguish as he bolted out of his berth, his weapon systems coming online instantly and his tracking computer searching for the enemy that lurked in the shadows of his nightmare. His rifle shook violently in unsteady hands as his optics scanned the darkness. Air rushed through his intakes as he realized he was alone in his room aboard the Ark. _It was just a dream. Just another bad dream._ He repeated the mantra over in his mind until he had calmed down enough to put his rifle back into subspace. He slumped wearily against the wall, putting his face in his hands and whimpered. The dreams were coming more frequently as the anniversary of the destruction of his city loomed closer. The anniversary of her death.

He scrubbed his face with his hands and slowly stood up - he wouldn't be going back into recharge again tonight.

_And I'm young enough to look at…_

"Hey, Blue. What are you doing up so late?"

With a cheerful, and very practiced smile, he waved at Trailbreaker. "Oh nothing much. I was going to read the data pad on Cyber-Ninja tactics that Jazz lent me, but I set it down somewhere, I think in Wheeljack's lab, so I'm headed there to search for it. I hope the data pad is still in one piece, because I don't want to make Jazz mad at me, but you know how things end up getting caught in explosions when around Wheeljack, but there wasn't an accident or explosion today, so hopefully that means it's there and undamaged. But then I'm not real sure if I left it there after all, which means I might have to retrace my steps. I was reading some of it during my monitor duty. I know Red Alert would get really upset if he knew I wasn't paying strict attention to the monitors, but I was bored and its not like there was anything happening, we haven't heard a peep out of the 'Cons for a few solar cycles, which is good because I haven't felt like fighting lately, but who does, really. Though, the data pad could be in the lounge in between the cushions on one of the couches, because I was sitting there and reading it after I got off of duty, but that was before Sideswipe set off the fire alarm and –"

"Gotcha, kid." Trailbreaker cut him off. "I hope you find that book. Don't stay up reading all night. You need to keep your strength up in case the 'Cons decide to attack."

"I won't. 'Night TB."

"'Night Blue. Sweet dreams when you do turn in." The black mech turned and headed down the corridor to the dormitories leaving an empty silence in his wake.

… _And far too old to see_.

Bluestreak visibly slumped with a spark-wrenching sigh. An involuntary shake passed through his body. Sweet dreams.

Dreams can't be sweet when they're plagued by your nightmares.

_All the scars are on the inside_.

"Hey. You know what today is?"

Bluestreak yawned as he trudged into the lounge. Recharge escaped him again last night and he was starting to feel the effects of it in his processors. Partially ignoring the idle chatter in the room, he retrieved his morning energon cube and slid into an open seat by Hound and Cliffjumper.

A data pad was passed across the table. "It's five vorns ago today that Ky-Alexia was destroyed."

His fingers dug into the side of his cube.

"Oh, I remember that. Slaggin' 'Cons left nothing standing of the city or outlying Neutral camps."

Bluestreak threw back his energon and stood up, tossing the empty cube in the waste receptacle and heading for the door.

Hound looked up at Bluestreak's hurried exit. "You okay, Blue? You barely sat down."

The practiced smiled came out and he waved brightly. "I just realized I'm late for my patrol shift. I'll see you guys later!"

_I'm not sure if there's anything left of me_.

He took aim at the practice target. He didn't need his targeting systems for this. The connection he felt with his old rifle was such that he could offline his optics and still hit the target dead-on easily.

"A'ight sparklin's. Pay attention t' how Blue shoots. See how he's relaxed an' not chokin' th' grip o' his rifle…"

Relaxed. He fought off the revolted shudder. There is nothing relaxing about killing others.

"Calm an' collected, like he's one wit' his weapon…"

One with an instrument of death. Or was there any distinction between him and his rifle? Were they all just weapons instead of living beings in this never-ending war? He wondered if any of the others felt disgusted with all the fighting. He knew almost everyone had suffered a loss of friends and family, and he was sure that some used the constant battles to take out their aggressions on the Decepticons. But were they reduced to being only killing machines? Were they all just weapons now and nothing more?

He shuttered his optics and pulled the trigger. He didn't need Ironhide's praise, or the amazed gasps of the new recruits. He could be devoid of all of his sensors and still be certain that he nailed the bull's eye.

"An' that's why Blue's the best sharpshooter this side o' th' galaxy!"

_Don't let these shakes go on._

"Ratchet?" He meekly peered inside the med bay. It was quiet and empty for a change, but he didn't want to disturb the medic if he was in recharge. He was hoping Ratchet had something to stop the nightmares. "Are you awake?"

"Whatcha need, Blue?" Ratchet grumpily called out from his office where he was filling out a stack of reports.

"I, uh-" He shuffled into the med bay, "I was wondering, er, well- I'm having, I mean, I can't- well, uh…"

"Spit it out, Blue. I'm an old mech and I don't have a vorn to spend listening to you stutter."

His shoulders slumped. "Never mind, Ratchet. It's not important."

_It's time we had a break from it. It's time we had some leave._

"Bluestreak, we have just received an emergency transmission from a group of Neutrals in Tarn and I want you to accompany Ironhide's extraction team."

He looked up at the overly calm face of the interceptor, "But, Prowl. I just got off of a triple patrol shift because that last fight took-"

"That wasn't a request, Bluestreak. The Neutral group is under heavy fire and you are our best sharpshooter." The Tactician turned on his feet and walked towards the control room. "You will meet Ironhide at the southern entrance in two breems."

He watched Prowl's retreating form and sighed. Looking down at the floor he noticed how badly his hands were shaking. He clenched and unclenched his fists trying to halt the involuntary movements. He couldn't risk the others seeing his hands shake. And even though he was so tired he'd smile and fake being the chipper and upbeat Bluestreak that everyone knew. Maybe the trip would be exhausting enough to drive the nightmares away.

_We've been living in the flames. We've been eating out our brains._

Fires were raging all around them as they pulled another group of younglings from a collapsing building. Decepticon trines were streaking overhead and he was picking off the fliers one by one. The fliers resorted to carpet bombing the area to wipe out the fleeing mechs, but his well-timed shots were able to detonate the bombs before they hit the ground.

A trine leader seared the sky above him and he lined up the shot. The air split in two from the shot and hit the turbines of the flier.

He could hear the mech scream in agony as he plummeted to his death.

The shakes came back in force and he could barely hold onto his rifle. _"Not now, not now, not now!"_

"BLUE! YOU'VE GOT INCOMING!"

One glance up told him all he needed to know and he leapt out of the way of an oncoming cluster bomb. The ground shook from the force of the blast, but a single returning shot pierced the dust and debris to find its target. Another flier's life ending in a violent and fiery fall from the heavens.

He coughed and fanned at the air around him as Trailbreaker ran over to him. "You okay, Blue?"

His hands were trembling and he forced a cough to hide the shakes. "I'll be fine. Did everyone get out safely?"

The larger mech smiled and patted him on the back, "Yep! But we wouldn't have if it wasn't for you taking out those trines. Nice shooting, kid."

_Oh, please don't let these shakes go on_.

Even in their final throes of death, the small Decepticon troop looked surprised at the young mech who extinguished their sparks with perfect aim.

He took a long and hard look at the rifle in his hand, the tip of it still trailing thin smoke from use - he had never killed anyone before. Something warm touched his foot drawing his attention away from the gun. It was the pooling energon from the laughing Decepticons he had killed. His shoulders slumped and the rifle hung limply in his hand at his side. He never wanted to be a part of this war.

What had he done?

A hand clamped firmly on his arm and he looked up to see a red Autobot symbol. "Y' okay, kid?"

He numbly stared at the visored mech who slowly pried the rifle out of his shaking hand. "Lets get y' cleaned up. Y' got a name, kid?"

One look at the black streaks of soot and the glistening blue flecks from her body smeared over his gray chassis gave him his new name. "Bluestreak. My name is Bluestreak."

_You ask me why I'm weary, why I can't speak to you_.

"Bluestreak?"

His optics shot open and he spun around at the voice. He never heard Optimus Prime walking up behind him. "Yes, sir?"

Kindly blue optics regarded him for a moment. "Is everything all right? You look tired."

The practiced smile came out. "It's been a long day, sir. Patrol shifts and the evacuation of the Neutrals, and I still have to write my report for Prowl, and I promised to take part of Blaster's Communications shift-"

"I'll tell Prowl to expect your report tomorrow. And don't worry about the shift. I haven't sat at Communications in a long time." Optimus chuckled and patted his shoulder. "I wonder how surprised the patrols will be at hearing my voice on the comm."

"But, sir-"

"Go get some recharge." There was the hint of a smile in Optimus' voice. "That's an order, soldier."

He wished it could be that easy. "Yes, sir."

"And Bluestreak?"

He looked up into the kindly blue optics, "Yes, sir?"

"If you ever need to talk to someone, come find me. I'm always willing to listen."

_You blame me for my silence, say it's time I changed and grew_

"Hey! Keep to your side of the road, Blue!" Sunstreaker's engine revved threateningly at him.

"Ooops! Sorry, Sunstreaker. It won't happen again." He really needed to pay attention for this shift. Any small affront to the Toughline usually ended with someone in the med bay needing repairs.

"Why aren't you talking my audio receptors off? Not that I want you to prattle on about nothing, but you don't seem like yourself today. What gives?"

That had to be the most the warrior had ever said to him. "Just thinking about stuff."

"Thinking, huh? Are you telling me that you can be quiet so you can think? Your mouth not running at a million parsecs per nano-second is like Sideswipe not causing trouble."

He didn't know what to say, if anything, to that. Two breems passed silently as the road coursed under their wheels before Sunstreaker spoke again.

"Okay. I give. What's wrong?"

"Huh?"

The Toughline huffed in annoyance. "I said, what is wrong?"

He didn't want to talk to the fighter. He didn't want to talk to anyone, really. "Nothing is wrong."

"You're lying. Not like I care, anyways. I'm glad I'm not forced to listen to you yammer on for the entire patrol. Now if you could do this outside of the patrol…"

_You see me now a veteran of a thousand psychic wars_

The ground erupted in a heated blast of debris as the battle raged on around them. His unit had gotten cut off from the other Autobots and the Decepticon trines were circling their position like metal vultures. Without help soon, the Decepticons would swarm the entire area and wipe them out quickly.

He took careful aim at the trench where he knew the first wave would spring from and waited for the order to fire. The Decepticon trines shot across the skies above the battlefield and back to their front line leaving only their white contrails behind them. The area grew eerily quiet as each side waited impatiently for orders.

The Decepticon's battle cry signaled the onslaught and the trines returned in force, carpet bombing the Autobot front line.

He could hear them laughing.

Cruel, mocking laughter echoing over the area.

The rifle took control over him and he fired at everything wearing the Decepticon insignia.

_My energy's spent at last and my armor is destroyed_

The intense carpet bombing had taken its heavy toll on their forces. The wounded and dead lay everywhere. Decepticon and Autobot alike. Death favored no one.

His energy levels were at 21 percent and fading fast. He rolled onto his back and reached inside his subspace pocket searching for field rations he knew he didn't have. Glancing down at his shredded armor he realized he was bleeding out through the numerous dents and gashes that spread across his body. No wonder his energy levels were so low.

There was gunfire to his right and he heard voices he didn't recognize coming up fast. He looked up into the thick and evil smoke that enveloped skies. He had seen skies just like this before… He sent a small prayer to Primus: If this is my time, please let her greet me at the gates of the Matrix.

_I have used up all my weapons, and I'm helpless and bereaved_

The mechs breached the trenches and Bluestreak leapt to his feet, firing the entire way. The rifle was overheating in his hand.

He would be out of ammunition shortly.

Click.

He flinched realizing that he left his flank open and he and braced himself for the shot that would end his life. But it never came. The mechs went down in a haze of smoke and crashed at his feet. The final shots from the rifle extinguished their sparks with pinpoint accuracy.

_Wounds are all I'm made of_

Dropping the rifle, he fell to his knees shaking violently. He wrapped his arms tightly around his body, his fingers finding more holes than solid armor. Visions of his destroyed city filled his processor and the dead Decepticons that lay at his feet became the innocent Neutrals that were gunned down in cold blood.

Just like her.

_Did I hear you say that this is victory?_

Somewhere behind him a cheer went up. Voices he recognized: Ironhide. Bumblebee. Cliffjumper. He saw his reflection in the puddles of the enemies' energon. Were they really enemies now that they were dead? Did Decepticons have loved ones who would miss them? Would they have nightmares now?

He could see her dead gray face, optics cold with judgment over his actions. The shaking worsened. He had become just like them.

There were warnings flashing about his own energon levels, but he took no heed of them. His hands were numb even with the sharp and jagged rents in his armor jabbing into the softer metal.

_Don't let these shakes go on, it's time we had a break from it_

"Blue?" There was a voice behind him, but it sounded so far away. "Blue?" The voice had a hand and it was gently shaking his shoulder.

_Send me to the rear_

"Let's get you back to Ratchet."

_Where the tides of madness swell and been sliding into hell_

Multiple hands were lifting him up. Faces he knew were at the corners of his vision, swirling and blending together into a cacophony of visual noise. They were smiling. Laughing. Congratulating each other on a job well done. On their victory.

"Good work, Blue!"

Good. Evil. Did it really matter when death was the only release for them? "No. Leave me alone."

_Oh, please don't let these shakes go on._

--

Up for a challenge?


End file.
